


Room 303

by zarrywinkle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Relationships, M/M, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:26:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarrywinkle/pseuds/zarrywinkle





	Room 303

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liquidmeasure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidmeasure/gifts).



The dim city lights of New York illuminated the hotel room. The boys had been stuck in their hotel rooms all day, shying away from the brutal New York winter outside. They could hear the faint utterings of fans waiting outside just a few stories down.

All of the boys sat around Harry's hotel room. Already, they were all high out of their minds. The eyes of all five boys were reddened with haze and hooded in relaxation. 

Usually, Harry preferred not to partake in Zayn and Louis' condemned recreation. Liam and Niall were on the fence about smoking weed as a pastime, but when days were as boring as this, they didn't seem to mind. Especially seeing as though today, security was lightly spread on the boys and there was no one barking countdowns at them or keeping a stifling eye on them to make sure they didn't do anything that would hurt their precious images.

He remembered when the video of Louis and Zayn smoking got out. It was the first scandal that had ever truly threatened to stain their squeaky clean careers. After that, there were rarely times like these where prominent members of their management team weren't around. Harry recalled the backlash that was unleashed upon them. More so Zayn. Even one brave interviewer had asked if there had been drug abuse going on when Zayn was gone because of stomach virus. To all of which the boys had adamantly denied, but it didn't go over their heads that even something as trivial as marijuana wouldn't be passed up by the media. Harry couldn't imagine the backlash he would've gotten had it been him, as the 'face'. 

But this one time, Harry had not only decided to join them but to also host the festivities in his room. He didn't want to think about the fans or media tonight. 

Zayn walked over from the iPod doc and sat, bobbing his head to the beat of the slower song, his body tranquil over the seat and his eyes closed.

Liam was silent in a corner, which was very unusual for him as he was always talking. "I'm gonna go," he said, trailing off with his head cocked to the side looking at Harry.

Only Harry waved slightly as Liam got up and left.

The four boys sat, with just the music playing and the soft, inaudible speaking of Niall and Louis.

They sat adjacent. Though they sat noticeably too close, it was slept on by Harry and Zayn who were far gone in their own thoughts.

Louis got up from the sofa and stood over the blonde boy. 

"Niall and I are gonna go find something to eat. We're hungry." He said, looking at Niall. 

Niall stared blankly back at Louis but allowed himself to be pulled up from the couch and toward the door anyway. They left the room without saying anything further, only the click of the door signaling their departure.

And there they were left, as they always were. The other three boys would branch off, leaving Zayn and Harry alone.

"I wonder, like," Harry said, after a long moment of silence.

"What? What do you wonder, Harry?" Zayn asked with his eyes crinkled, but still closed.

"How it would be to just have quiet. Like, no judgement." He continued, still staring out of the window.

Zayn's eyes opened and focused on the boy next to him.

Harry passed the blunt to Zayn and he raised it to his lips and took a long inhale before releasing it slowly, never taking his squinting glare off of Harry. He could tell Zayn was thinking.

"I don't know..." He replied. "Different."

Harry brought his attention back, dazedly, to the hotel window, biting his lip and digging his index finger into the bare skin on his right arm. 

As Zayn released another lungful of smoke, he reached over and pulled Harry's arm forcefully toward him, squinting at the blank spaces of pale skin.

"Um, what are you doing?" 

"Hm, like I can see some sick designs on ya arm? Like, maybe some doodles or something."

Harry had had a left arm full of tattoos. A large ship, an anchor, and even a half naked mermaid were among them. But Zayn's favorite was the heart next to his armpit above the heart that was drawn in realism. The heart on his sleeve matched the one on his own hipbone and he sometimes wondered if he'd gotten it intentionally to match.

Harry picked at his bottom lip, pinching it between his thumb and index finger the way he did when he was thinking up an answer in an interview or when he was babbling on about something. A smirk played on his lips and Zayn put one on to match his.

Soon enough, the boys had the tattoo machine that Harry used to give the occasional tattoo ready to go. Shirtless, he sat on the couch and looked at Zayn expectantly, his mind carelessly emptied by the drugs and free of any worry of what people would think or speculate of the new splatters of ink. 

Harry Styles: New ink! Could there be any hidden messages within the pop stars bizarre tattoos? He thought of the tabloid articles. They had tried so hard to speculate the meanings of his tattoos but little did they know of the spontaneity of his tattoos. Much like this one, Harry never set up tattoo appointments. If he found himself in a tattoo parlor, he would sit in the leather chair and get the first thing to come into his mind tattooed onto his skin. Only this time, his tattoo would be a result of Zayn's imagination and not his.

Zayn looked down at Harry, "Trust me?"

"Yeah."

The room went silent as Zayn worked on Harry's new indelible adornment. Harry didn't say anything in fear of breaking Zayn's concentration and the sight of him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his beautifully defined jawline chiseled with focus was something Harry wanted to watch. The only sound in the room was the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the occasional grunt or moan from Harry. Tattoos didn't hurt him very much anymore but of course the repeated punctures against his sensitive skin did discomfort him.

This did not get past Zayn. Although he didn't want to hurt Harry, he did have to admit that the sound of the younger boy grunting and moaning got him off to some extent. It was anything but easy for Zayn to not occasionally look up at Harry just to see his face and the way it was contorting. But each time he did, he would be met by a smoldering green gaze oozing curiosity and lust. Zayn wanted nothing more but to sit up and press his lips into the plush pink ones just inches away from him. 

Harry didn't feel much different. His extrovert nature was compelling him to make the first move, to kiss Zayn first and establish his desire. But part of him was holding back, unsure of what Zayn wanted.

"I want it to come out real," Zayn paused, his tongue darting out of his mouth in a quick moment of concentration, "sick."

After God only knows how long of just the sound of the tattoo machine and Zayn's focus sounds, the older boy sat up straight, his glassy pupils looking proudly at Harry. 

"What do you think?" 

Harry looked at his arm. An intricate mural-like image adorned the inflamed skin on his arm. There was a large moon that sat beside dark, shadowy clouds. Below it was a pot, like the ones that usually contain gold, with black birds flying out of it toward the sky. In Harry's fuzzy state, the pop of color on the tattoos were like a fresh breath of air.

Zayn had this way in making everything he created scream his name. Whether it was a song he had penned or a wall he had mindlessly graffitied in his house, anyone would know who had done it. All over his body were the normal black markings of normal tattoos but this, had Zayn Malik written all over it. It even had his might as well tattoo beat. 

 

As much as he reveled in the look of it on himself, he didn't get it.

"I love it but," Harry began, looking even harder at it, "I don't get it."

Zayn bit his lip and got closer to him. 

"You see. It's every song you wrote on the album," he started.

"I didn't want to give you another caged bird tattoo," he began, nervously. "So, the birds flying free out of the pot, Fool's Gold and Stockholm Syndrome." 

He clutched Harry's arm with the most careful most careful of touches as he continued, "And the birds flying into the dark sky, who knows where they're going? And the moon was weak symbolism for Night Ch-"

"No. Don't put it down, I like it a lot, Z."

Harry could see a visible blush creeping it's way up Zayn's neck when he complemented his work. And that's when he did it; he kissed Zayn.

At first he wasn't sure if Zayn was object to it until he felt the matched movements of Zayn's lips against his own. The confirmation of Zayn's requited feelings caused Harry to moan into their kiss.

For a long while their lips moved with prowess over each other's. Harry's hand cupped Zayn's face toward him and Zayn's large hand splayed itself over Harry's small thigh. The minor contact alone put Harry on semi and there was nowhere to go but up for him. 

When they were absolutely breathless, they parted lips and rested their foreheads together.  
The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room as they both searched for the perfect thing to say. Nothing came, and instead Zayn just chuckled. 

"Do you want me half as much as I want you, Harry?"

Harry nodded his head with a big cheeky grin growing on his features. "Yeah, I do."

"Ok, then." With an inhale, Zayn pulled the bigger boy into his lap and barely moments later they were kissing again.

Harry grinded himself against Zayn's bulge and felt him straining against the fabric of his jeans.

Harry pulled Zayn's shirt over his head and began working on the button of Zayn's black jeans. The older boy could never be bothered with a belt except for special occasions, and for that Harry couldn't have been more grateful. 

Harry pulled himself away from Zayn's mouth and slid off of his lap. Hastily, he pulled on the thick fabric, essentially bringing down both Zayn's jeans and underwear at the same time. He was shocked by the sight of Zayn's erect member. Of course he always had an idea of how big Zayn was in those tiny slip ups in which Harry would catch a glimpse of him naked, but he had never imagined Zayn this big up close.

Harry reveled in the sight of Zayn reaching down to touch himself. Zayn's hand moved up and down on his own shaft, just inches from Harry's face. Zayn's finger beckoned Harry's mouth closer to him. The younger boy drew his mouth closer until he decided he would take over. Gently, he shoo-ed Zayn's hand away and licked the very tip of his erection. He could feel Zayn's member pulsing hard for him and he was more than elated to have made Zayn so excited.

"Harry, stop fucking around." Zayn breathed out from above him. Harry snapped out of his elation and enveloped Zayn into his mouth.

Zayn groaned out and immediately reached down to tangle his fingers in Harry's long, brown locks. "Look up at me."

Obediently, Harry focused his green pupils onto Zayn's hazel ones as he bobbed his head up and down his shaft. "Oh, fuck. Your mouth feels so fucking good."

Zayn was finding a high in Harry's hot mouth and green eyes but couldn't find his climax. Desperately, he grabbed Harry by the bottom of his chin and the top of his head and plunged as far as he could into the younger boy's mouth.

Harry gagged and choked for air but he loved every moment of Zayn using him for pleasure. Not that he could think of very much else, for his mind was still very hazy. Zayn groaned out time and time again, Harry's throat providing an endless stream of pleasure for him. Every now and again he would have to remove himself from Harry's throat to allow him air, but he barely minded. 

"Harry, I'm close."

Harry moaned along with Zayn. He got off on Zayn's desperate need for him and even though Zayn basically had his hand wrapped around his throat, Harry still liked to believe that he had the upper hand. 

Zayn's orgasm was accompanied by a string of profanities and cries. Harry admired the contusions of expressions that possessed Zayn's features as he came. They made him look almost vulnerable but Harry knew better. 

When Zayn was finished, Harry obediently swallowed and stood up. 

Immediately, Zayn began to work impatiently at Harry's belt. "Shit," he cursed when he finally got it open. With a tender tug, Harry's tight jeans were at his ankles and he stepped out of them. 

Zayn was faced with the task of pleasuring Harry. One of which he was all too compliant with. 

"Do you want my mouth?" Zayn asked, wetting his lips and pulling downward on the boxers. He nipped at Harry's thighs and kissed at his hipbones, as he waited for Harry to find the words seemingly trapped in his throat.

"Please." Harry begged breathlessly. As he stared down at Zayn he thought he could hear his heart beating right behind his ear drums. He could feel heat rushing to his face as well as his member and he blew a soft stream of air through his parted lips.

Zayn took the younger boy into his hand and pumped slowly, watching as he began to bead sweat. Harry was hungry for Zayn's wet mouth on him. He craved Zayn in the worst way. He would do anything for him and Zayn knew it. This fueled Zayn in his slow actions, knowingly torturing the boy

He wanted to hear Harry say it; say that he wanted him. "Beg for it." He said, biting his lips.

At first, instinct put Harry at odds with begging. He was used to being the one begged for but at this moment he realized, this was Zayn. He had wanted him as much as the people who begged wanted him. And so he complied:

"Zayn, please. I want you."

Zayn smirked smugly up at Harry.

His tongue slipped skillfully over Harry's slit. Zayn savored the taste of the boy's precum and was all too pleased by the shiver it sent up Harry's abdomen as he did it. 

He decided to torture the boy no more and without notice took the boy completely into his mouth. The length of him was a mouthful and extended into the back of his throat, gagging him. Zayn bobbed his head up and down as tears came to his eyes. 

Harry acquiescently kept his arms behind his back and didn't dare try to pull the domineering move Zayn had earlier, even though he was completely in the position to do so. He submissively and faithfully let Zayn work his magic.

Zayn's tongue massaged the underside of Harry's shaft with expertise. His fingers dug into Harry's hips and he bobbed, leaving small red fingertip marks all over the pale, taut skin. 

He took his mouth away to stare lovingly at the might as well tattoo he had given him all that time ago. We wouldn't have ever done anything like this then, Zayn thought to himself. 

Harry had become to tremble in Zayn's hand, signaling how close he was. 

"Not now, baby." He got back to his feet. "Go lie down on the bed." 

 

Harry walked over to the bed, crawling onto it. 

"On your back." Zayn ordered. Instantly, Harry was on his back, waiting for him. Zayn followed in pursuit. He used his saliva to lubricate Harry's sensitive opening. 

He slowly inserted a finger into Harry. Stroking himself, Harry shied away from the protrusion but moaned in pleasure. 

Zayn slowly pushed his finger in and out of the tight muscle as he rubbed Harry's flushed buttcheek. When his single digit wasn't met with as much resistance, he added another finger and continued.

The room was filled with the sound of Harry's soft moans as well as the sound of his palm rubbing up and down his shaft.

"Are you ready?" Zayn asked, finally. Harry nodded his head and Zayn propped himself up on both of his knees in front of Harry.

Slowly, Zayn entered the younger boy and groaned at the tightness of him. "Harry, shit."

Harry could do nothing but whimper in response and hold his ass apart for Zayn's access. 

Once Harry's muscles slightly relaxed around Zayn's shaft, he began to move with swiftness and ground himself against Zayn when their hips met. He grabbed onto Harry's extended arms to pull him further onto him.

"Zayn," Harry finally managed. "That feels so good."

Zayn moaned in response and kept his pace. His breathing eventually became ragged and he had began to pound painfully into Harry, causing him to cry out rather loudly. Harry had freed one of his hands from Zayn's and had begun to run it up and down his cock.

Deep in ecstasy, Harry was thrown off when Zayn removed himself and was beginning to roughly maneuver him onto his stomach.

"Arch your ass up toward me, babe." He demanded. "And give me your hands."

Harry complied and reached his arms back toward Zayn. He gasped when he felt Zayn enter him from behind. "Fuck," he cried out. Zayn used his hold on Harry's wrists as leverage to pull him further down onto his own cock.

The usual cotton candy pinkness in Harry's lips was replaced by a deep blood red, and teeth marks littered his bottom lip. 

As Zayn steadily plowed into Harry, he felt himself begin to unravel. He eventually let go of the younger boy's wrists and let his body slump over so that his front was pressed into the arch of Harry's back and his own arms were wrapped around the other boy's torso. Zayn pressed wet kisses to whatever bare skin on Harry that he could. He whimpered into each kiss and sloppily progressed toward his high.

"I-I'm close." Zayn rasped into Harry's ear. 

"Come for me, Zayn." Harry coaxed. "I want you to come for me."

Zayn began to bury himself into Harry at an intoxicating rate until he felt himself spill into Harry. 

Harry pushed back against Zayn's thrusts, grinding himself down. Harry groaned out in relief, the feeling of Zayn's fluid intoxicating him. His eyes rolled back and his jaw fell slack. 

With a sigh, Zayn fell over onto his back and Harry collapsed onto his stomach. Harry's green eyes stuck on Zayn as he caught his breath. 

"What?" Zayn asked, breathlessly.

The sight of Zayn with his long hair slick with sweat and his lips wet with arousal, kept Harry hungry for him. He was far from done with Zayn. The night time light shone in through the window, creating a beautiful contrast against Zayn's brown skin.

"I want to fuck you."

Zayn chuckled at the idea. He had never thought of himself as a bottom before but for Harry he thought it was more than worth a try. 

"Mmkay." Zayn mumbled.

"I want you back on the couch over there." Harry said, pushing himself up and walking toward the seat. "I want you to ride me."

He sat with his long legs extended far out over the seat and his back slumped. 

Harry beckoned to Zayn to which he slowly complied. Zayn climbed slowly over his lap and was greeted by Harry's hands, one on his back and one on his waist. He in return, placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

Harry watched every move that Zayn made and didn't break eye contact as he put his hand to his mouth, wetting his finger tips and rubbed it against his sensitive hole. 

Slowly, he slid a digit into Zayn's ass. He hissed, but didn't recoil. Instead, he tightened his grip on Harry's toned arms. Harry thrusted his fingers into Zayn, coaxing his muscles into relaxation. 

Harry eased Zayn onto his member with a groan. Zayn gripped roughly onto Harry's shoulders, hard enough he was sure, to leave bruises for the next day. 

"You gotta relax, Z." Harry said, feeling the rigid position of Zayn's spine.

Zayn hung his head back and tried to find pleasure in Harry's hardened member inside of him. Soon enough, he found his muscles relaxed enough to allow Harry to slowly raise him up and down his shaft. 

Harry turned a soft pink in color as he resisted the urge to plow roughly into Zayn, as he had had done to him earlier. 

He controlled himself though. Zayn brought his face to level with Harry's and began kissing at his lips, tasting the weed still on his breath. As he rode Harry, he reached over to the table beside them where their left over blunt sat in the ash tray.

Zayn lit up and put the end into his mouth. He inhaled and held the smoke in his lungs. Slowly he leaned forward slightly and put his mouth close to Harry's. He blew the fumes from his lungs into the small depression between Harry's carefully puckered lips.

The one pull put Zayn into a further state of relaxation. He took another drag and put the blunt between Harry's lips.

Small hissing sounds began to escape Zayn's lips as he brought himself up and down on Harry's shaft. 

He bit his lip and his head fell back. He began to moan and whimper for Harry. "Oh fuck," were the only intelligible words coming out of his mouth. 

Harry watched from below him in amazement, one of his hands had migrated to Zayn's ever fluctuating hips while the other held the blunt between his index and middle fingers. He could feel Zayn's tightness resisting against him and pushing down further onto his cock. 

He took pull after pull until he was beyond pleased until his eyes were heavy with pleasure. Harry put down the blunt and put both hands back to Zayn's hips.

"I'm gonna cum, Zayn." 

"Go on," Zayn said breathlessly. His head hung over Harry's shoulder, dizzy with pleasure as he continued to pump himself. 

Zayn rode himself through Harry's climax as he felt yet another one of his rising again. 

Harry came with quiet, soft moans and his face pointed toward the ceiling. His lips were pursed into a soft O. Zayn was so enticed by the plush appearance to his lips that he ran his thumb over the circle his lips made and pressed his own onto them.

Zayn reached a third climax with his mouth reigning possessively over Harry's. His cum spurting up onto both of the chests. With a final grunt he fell over onto his back. His left hand rested on his stomach and his other over his eyes. 

He began to giggle and laugh uncontrollably as he caught his breath.

Even though he had no clue what Zayn was laughing about, Harry joined in. Their deep, booming chuckles filled the room, drowning out the intense atmosphere the room had been in moments before.

 

Zayn swiped the damp hair away from his face and looked at Harry.

"What hotel room is this?"

"303, I think." Harry said, tilting his head toward Zayn with a smile. 

Zayn reached over Harry for the tattoo machine and put it into the younger boy's large hand. He laid back with his hands rested behind his head.

"Right under Don't Think I Won't." He said biting his lip. 

Harry shook his head and leaned himself toward Zayn's hipbone.

A low buzzing hum began about the room.


End file.
